In an untended country estate in rural Argentina, middle-aged Mecha (Graciela Borges) sits with her husband and friends drinking wine next to a pool that has not been cleaned for ages. Tipsy Mecha attempts to collect the wine glasses, but falls and severely cuts herself on the broken glass.

In just a few crisp images, director Lucrecia Martel captures the decay and decadence of the Argentine bourgeoisie in her debut feature film, La Ciénaga (2001). But rather than score easy points with polemics, Martel weaves together a tapestry of characters and incidents that provides fresh insights into contemporary Argentine society.

I only recently jumped on the Lucrecia Martel bandwagon, greatly admiring her widely acclaimed Zama from last year. I wish I had caught La Ciénaga when it screened at the 2002 Wisconsin Film Festival; the film is considered one of the most impressive debut features in recent international cinema. For others who missed the opportunity the first time around, UW Cinematheque is screening a 35mm print of the film on July 26 at 7 p.m. in Vilas Hall.

To describe the plot of La Ciénaga is to miss the point. Despite very little narrative momentum after the initial accident, there’s almost too much to see. Nearly every shot is packed to the brim with commotion as we observe quotidian details of daily life and begin to understand the relationships between the characters.

Mecha’s husband Gregorio (Martín Adjemián), who has begun to dye his hair in vain, is useless in the aftermath of Mecha’s accident. It is up to Mecha’s teenage daughter Momi (Sofia Bertolotto) to take charge and aid her mother with the assistance of their indigenous live-in maid Isabel (Andrea López). Momi and Isabel have an unusually close relationship, but Mecha cannot mask her classism and racism, and refuses to let Isabel assist her. From there, the network of characters continues to expand, as family members respond to Mecha’s accident.

Even after you understand what the relationships are, you still find yourself examining the characters’ relationships. This might sound frustrating, but it is a liberating viewing experience. As with Zama, Martel never seems particularly interested in clarity in her staging or editing. Instead she creates a lasting impression. Most of my favorite moments in the film have little to do with the plot, including when Momi plays with a mirror to reflect sunlight as she lies in bed with Isabel.

While the structure and style of La Ciénaga might sound unwieldy, Martel never lacks emotional clarity. The performances, especially by the younger actors, are compelling and often heartbreaking. Beyond her social and political observations, Martel conveys many simple truths about an extraordinarily complex family.